Joined
by jaybear1701
Summary: Cormier and Niehaus are Trill symbionts who love each other throughout three lifetimes. Part 1: An unabashed take on the best friends secretly in love trope, Clexa style. I have no shame. Part 2: Shaw must solve a mystery involving a beautiful, but deadly number with ties to a past life, aka, a four alarm fire at a 24th-century oil refinery, Root x Shaw style.
1. Chapter 1

_Cormier's first memory was warmth. Fluidity. A welcoming embrace that glided over its skin like liquid silk. It was safety. Comfort. Home. Cormier elongated, stretched, floated in a pool of murky white, twisting and turning, savoring this first taste of freedom. Of being._

 _Cormier's next memory was electricity. The thrum of energy. The liquid spark of life coursing through the waters. Of thoughts not her own, invigorating in their power._

 _Eventually, Cormier came to realize it wasn't alone. When another brushed against its side, Cormier's entire body vibrated, blood buzzing from the contact. The connection. A name materialized in Cormier's mind, whispered through the chambers of its heart._

Niehaus.

 _The new presence never left Cormier. A constant. A forever. Cormier felt it. Again and again._

 _They were solid. Inseparable. Happy._

 _Until Niehaus was gone._

 _All Cormier knew at that point was emptiness. A hollow cold that left it immobile._

 _It was followed by pain like no other. Cormier writhed in agony as it was lifted from all it had ever known and placed on something hard and foreign where everything hurt and nothing made sense. It felt like a new eternity. Harsh. Unyielding._

 _Until that was gone too._

 _And a change began._

 _A sudden, jolting shift in which Cormier's memories were no longer its own, but ones shared with another._

 _Flickering._

 _Hazy._

 _Visions of gold and blue falling from the stars, of laughter and smiles. Cool fingers intertwining with their own and a warmth it had thought long gone blossoming from deep within._

* * *

Lexa cracked open her eyes, vision slowly coming into focus in the dim light of her hospital room. When she realized where she was, her hands immediately reached for her abdomen and she winces at the soreness she found there.

"Careful," a gentle voice approached from Lexa's right.

Lexa relaxed when she recognized the woman who emerged from the shadows, a tricorder held between her hands, dark blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Dr. Griffin," Lexa acknowledged the older woman she had known for nearly her entire life. "Did everything…?"

"Everything went well," Dr. Abby Griffin said, pulling out a scanner and running it up and down the length of Lexa's body, nodding in satisfaction at the results. "You might be sore for a little while, but the joining was a complete success. How do you feel?"

"I…" Lexa trailed off, not knowing how to describe how she felt. She had dreamed of this moment for as long as she could remember. And she had thought, with her goal attained, that she would have had some sort of miraculous epiphany or that all the pieces would fall into place. That she would have felt something. _Anything._

But the truth was, she didn't feel all that different now that she was joined; now that she was no longer Alexandria Komtrikru, but Alexandria Cormier, host to one of Trillius Prime's first new symbionts in more than four generations.

If anything, she felt nothing but a strange sort of melancholy that weighed heavily inside her chest. Like she had lost something, but couldn't remember what.

"I don't know," Lexa finally answered, unsure. She wondering if she had gotten a defective symbiont, or if she perhaps was the defective one.

Abby must have sensed her distress and she reached out and gently squeezed Lexa's hand.

"That's okay," she said. "It'll take more than one night to get used to everything." Abby reached into her pocket to retrieve a hypospray. "This will help you relax," she said, pressing it to Lexa's shoulder. The medicine passed through her skin with a hiss.

"And Cl…." Lexa cleared her throat, heat prickling across her cheeks. "Everyone else?"

Abby's brown eyes softened, the corners of her lips curling upward in a small smile. "Clarke's just fine," she answered. "And so are the rest of the hundred."

Nodding, Lexa felt tension seep from her bones, whether it was from Abby's news or the narcotics, she wasn't sure. But within minutes, the pull of sleep was too strong to ignore and she succumbed to its warm embrace, her dreams filled with water and white and currents of energy.

Lexa sensed her before she even saw her. Felt the charge in the air just outside her quarters before she was turned and pulled into a hug.

"Finally," Clarke whispered into her hair, tightening her arms around Lexa's shoulders. "I thought you'd never get out."

Hands sliding across Clarke's waist, Lexa instinctively melted into the embrace and swore she could feel Cormier jolt in response. She inhaled Clarke's familiar scent, which always reminded Lexa of wildflowers on a summer breeze, as light as the sky. Calming and sweet.

"When were you released?" Lexa asked as she loosened her grip on her best friend and pulled away slightly, hands resting on the small of Clarke's back as she examined her. Clarke looked calm and well-rested. Her wavy blonde hair fell loose past her shoulders, partially obscuring the pattern of spots on the edges of her face.

"A few days ago. I was starting to worry you and Cormier weren't getting along." Clarke said it lightly, fingers resting on Lexa's upper arms, but Lexa saw the concern in the deep blue of her gaze. Symbiont rejection had been a major concern for the project, and was now the reason they would all be subject to observation over the next month.

"I thought you knew by now never to doubt me, Clarke."

"It was never you I doubted," Clarke said with a soft smile, reaching up to trace the spots on the sides of Lexa's forehead, skimming the pads of her fingertips along her cheeks, behind her jaw and down her neck. It was a habit Clarke had started when they were children, whenever she worried about Lexa.

"And you?" Lexa asked, suppressing a shiver at Clarke's touch and hoping her voice remained steady despite the way her heart-hearts?-lurched. "How are you adjusting with Niehaus?"

Lexa's stomach dipped curiously as the symbiont's name rolled off her tongue.

"I feel… calmer, I suppose." Clarke shrugged. "More at peace, maybe." She shook her head. "It's hard to describe, you know?"

"Yeah," Lexa agreed though _calm_ wasn't exactly the word she would use to describe herself in that instant, not with the way Clarke smoothed her thumbs against her racing pulse and looked at her with the serenity of the ocean, untold secrets hidden in the depths beneath its surface.

* * *

Lexa thought it would become easier after being joined with Cormier. That the feelings she had for Clarke Griffin would somehow lessen to manageable levels now that she was Clarke Niehaus. But they intensified instead, to the point where Lexa could think of nothing but Clarke, and the longing that burned in her chest when they were apart could be alleviated only when Clarke was by her side.

It didn't help that Clarke had become even more physically affectionate than normal since the joining, finding random moments to touch Lexa, holding her hand when she could, brushing against her when she walked past, laying her head on Lexa's shoulder as they read books or listened to 21st century Terran music (Clarke's favorite, for whatever reason) or watched a program on holovision.

Although Lexa knew she shouldn't torture herself by indulging Clarke, she couldn't resist. She was weak for Clarke. Always had been and, Lexa suspected, always would be.

And so she found herself unable to say no when Clarke suggested that they transport over to their old neighborhood. They spent the day reminiscing, walking through the streets where they playfully waged war with the other children, chuckling when they passed a playground where Lexa had once fought a "duel" with Wells Jaha, Bellamy Blake, and Roan Azgeda for the hand of Clarke, the fair "sky princess." And after a long, drawn-out fight "to the death," said sky princess had stopped the battle, unequivocally stated that she was no prize to be won, but nonetheless declared Lexa the winner.

Lexa had fallen to one knee and pledged her fealty to Clarke. And then Clarke had kissed her. Nothing more than a chaste peck on Lexa's cheek. But it had warmed Lexa straight down to her toes with a fluttery feeling that hadn't left her for days.

That same feeling was now back, more intense than ever, what with the way Clarke threaded their arms together and laughed, bright and clear, at the memories.

After lunch, they made their way to their favorite hill where they lay underneath an ancient tree- _their tree-_ the one they had marked as their own so many years ago, carving their names into its gnarly and exposed roots. Lexa rested the back of her head on Clarke's outstretched legs. A gentle breeze ruffled the branches overhead and the sun's rays rippled down through the leaves, casting flickering impressions of light and shade behind Lexa's closed eyes. The calm nearly lulled her to sleep.

"Do you ever stop and wonder, why us?" Clarke's question was soft and husky. Her fingers absently threaded through Lexa's long brown hair.

"About?" Lexa didn't bother opening her eyes, too caught up in the feel of Clarke braiding her hair like she did when they were younger.

"Why we were selected for joining."

Lexa subconsciously moved her hand to her abdomen, where she felt a flutter as Cormier seemed to roll in annoyance at the conversation interrupting their nap. "It's a little late to be asking that now, don't you think?"

Clarke playfully tugged on one of Lexa's braids. "You've really never wondered?"

Lexa managed to stifle a sigh. "They chose us, Clarke, because one day you're going to be the finest doctor in the galaxy and I'm going to be commander-in-chief of the Federation."

"Wow," Clarke said, her tone infused with mocking amusement. "Don't aim too low now."

Lexa opened her eyes and looked at an upside down Clarke, who smiled down at her. "Are you doubting me again?"

"Never," Clarke said, eyes shimmering with affection. "But seriously. There are so many qualified candidates. Why is one person chosen over another? Why does someone like Finn, who really has nothing going for him but good looks and a father in the Senate, get selected over someone like Monty, who's brilliant?"

Lines creased Lexa's forehead as something twinged in her chest. "You think Finn is good looking?"

"Focus." Clarke swatted the top of Lexa's head. "All I'm saying is, if the Symbiosis Commission really is using objective criteria, then how do you explain them picking Finn over Monty?"

Frowning, Lexa sat up so she could face Clarke properly. "Where's all this coming from?"

Clarke shook her head and looked down, picking at the grass. "I don't know. What if they made a mistake?"

"They?" Lexa asked, reaching out to still Clarke's hands. "Or you?"

Clarke's gaze snapped up but she said nothing. Lexa knew that Clarke had been reluctant about applying to become a host initiate, doing so mainly at Abby's insistence. But perhaps Lexa had been too focused on her own goals to realize the extent of Clarke's hesitance.

"I know change can be unsettling." Lexa caressed the cool, smooth skin between ridges of Clarke's knuckles. "But you were born for this, Clarke. Same as me."

Clarke stared at her for a long moment, eyes reminding Lexa of the dark blue of the ocean before a storm. "You really believe that, don't you?"

Lexa nodded and squeezed Clarke's fingers, watching a shadow crossing the blonde's features.

"But what if we were born for something else?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Clarke huffed and looked up into the branches, as if they held the answered she needed between the whispers of the rustling leaves. "Everyone expects greatness from us. But what if we were meant to just… go somewhere else?"

"Where?"

"Wherever we want." Clarke trained her gaze back on Lexa. "I could be an artist and you could teach."

Lexa laughed. "Me? Teach?"

"Why not?" Clarke shrugged up one shoulder, smiling. "You love kids. We could raise a farm of tribbles for all I care."

"Tribbles. Really Clarke?"

Clarke's smile faded slightly. "We could just be… happy."

Lexa frowned. "Are you _unhappy_?"

"I'm not, _not_ happy," Clarke tried, unconvincingly "But a life of no expectations? No responsibilities to anyone but ourselves. That doesn't appeal to you at all?"

Lexa fought hard to swallow against the sudden constriction in her throat. She would be lying to herself and Clarke if she said that she'd never considered it, that the thought of running away with Clarke wasn't appealing. In a few they would be separated for the first time since they were seven-Clarke to medical school, Lexa to law school-and Lexa had hoped beyond hope that Cormier would somehow make it all less difficult. That the symbiont would help her cope with the absence of the one person Lexa loved above all else.

But her heart throbbed painfully in her chest her stomach twisted-as if Cormier too was just as upset-and she had to turn her head from Clarke's hesitant expression. Lexa shifted so that she was sitting against the tree next to Clarke, its bark pressing uncomfortably against her shoulder blades and the back of her head. She didn't let go of Clarke's hand.

"It does," Lexa managed to say eventually. "Your mom would kill us though."

Clarke chuckled. "Probably," she said. "But it'd be worth it." She intertwined their fingers and laid their hands on her lap. Clarke's palm was cool, like it always was (a peculiarity of the Trill), but it warmed Lexa nonetheless.

"It's a lovely dream," Lexa quietly admitted, canting her head to the side to look Clarke in the eye. "But it's just that. A dream. You and I both know we were meant for more, Clarke. For our symbionts. For our people."

Clarke let out a long, slow breath, a sad smile forming on her lips as she lay her head on Lexa's shoulder, and Lexa couldn't help but feel she chose the wrong answer.

* * *

It was dark by the time they transported back to the Commission's dormitories and Lexa walked Clarke to her quarters. The halls were empty-the other newly joined trill no doubt out enjoying their last days of freedom before their responsibilities set in.

"Will you be going to the reception?" Clarke asked as they reached her door.

"Not like we can skip it," Lexa commented. As newly joined Trill, they were all expected to make an appearance at the Commission's closing gala, after a final week of medical tests, psyche evals and exit interviews.

Nodding, Clarke began walking toward her door, but paused, breathed in deeply and turned back.

"Lexa?"

"Yes."

"If I told you…" Clarke licked her lips. "If I told you I loved you…"

Lexa froze in place, heart stopping mid-beat, lungs petrified.

"That I'm _in_ love with you," Clarke continued. "Would that change anything? About the dream." Her eyes were too blue, too hopeful.

 _Change anything?_ Lexa wanted to say, her synapses short-circuiting, leaving her with an inability to formulate coherent words. _It would change_ everything.

But she didn't.

Instead, she forced herself to inhale. Exhale. She looked Clarke straight in the eyes, let her head take control of her stuttering heart, and said:

"No."

Clarke's face didn't fall, though Lexa could see the waver in blue, the nearly imperceptible quiver of her lips.

"We're joined now," Lexa said, repeating the lessons repeatedly hammered down by the Commission even as she began to doubt them. "We must rise above such things. Recognize love for what it is."

"What?"

"Weakness."

Clarke stared at her, a thick silence falling between them.

"You don't believe that." She shook her head. "That's not _you_ , Lexa."

"But it is." Lexa shook her head. "You want to believe it's Cormier. But it's not." If anything Cormier was extremely fond of both Clarke and Niehaus, judging by the way Lexa's stomach flipped, more so than usual, whenever they met. And the symbiont was now expressing its displeasure with Lexa's decision by pitching and rolling and burning what felt like a hole in her abdomen.

"We are what we are now, Clarke. You know that." Lexa stepped forward against her own will, but Clarke raised a hand to stop her.

"Don't." Clarke straightened herself to full height, chin held high as she turned away.

Lexa could only watch silently as Clarke disappeared into her quarters without another word, the hurt in Clarke's eyes like a punch in the gut, leaving Lexa nearly doubled over the moment she was alone. She wondered how doing what she thought was right nevertheless felt like the biggest mistake of her first life.

* * *

"Looks like you and Cormier have mostly clean bills of health, Lexa," Abby said, her fingers typing away on a data padd.

"Mostly?" Lexa frowned from where she sat on the exam table.

"You're showing lower than normal levels of norepinephrine and serotonin in comparison to your previous results." Abby looked up. "You know the Symbiosis Commission will want to ensure that the change isn't a negative reaction to the joining. Anything I should know about?"

Lexa immediately thought of Clarke and the pain on the blonde's face when she last saw her one week ago. She hadn't heard from Clarke since. Cormier rumbled in her gut and Lexa clenched her jaw.

"It's nothing," she insisted.

"Are you sure?" Abby raised an eyebrow. "Nothing's happened with, I don't know, Clarke?"

Lexa stilled, heat rising up the back of her neck, but she didn't dare answer.

"Because I don't think I've seen my daughter this mopey since that time you fought about that class election more than a decade ago," Abby observed. "Do you remember?"

Lexa cracked a sad smile at the memory. "How could I forget? She thought I betrayed her because I voted for Anya instead of her. I think she spit in my milk."

"Oh she did," Abby chuckled. "Told me all about it. Gleefully even."

Lexa allowed herself a small laugh. "I'll bet. But I swear I thought I was doing what was best for the class. Clarke didn't talk to me for-"

"Three months," Abby finished. "Believe me, those were three of the longest months of my life. And over the past few days, I started to get what the humans call deja vu. So, I'll ask you again, is there anything I should know?"

"Are you asking as my doctor or Clarke's mom?"

"Right now? I'm asking as your friend," Abby said, leaning a hip against the examination bed. "I've known you nearly all your life, Lexa. You're like a daughter to me. If there's anything I can do to help…"

Lexa shook her head and looked down at where her hands rested on her lap, concentrating on keeping the steadily rising tide of her emotions from swelling too high.

"It's… complicated," she eventually said, lamely, and glanced back up at Abby. "Did Clarke say something?"

Abby canted her head to her side. "Do you really think Clarke would tell me anything?"

"Point taken," Lexa conceded. "It's really nothing important," she lied.

"If you say so," Abby straightened back up, looking thoroughly unconvinced. "I'll send your final health report to the Symbiosis Commission. They'll be in touch if they have any questions." She reached out and squeezed Lexa's shoulder. "And congratulations again. You and Cormier will make Trill proud."

Lexa nodded gratefully and Abby made her way to the exit. She had just stepped through the sliding doors when Lexa surprised herself by calling out:

"Abby?"

"Yes?" Abby asked, turning back to face Lexa.

"When you were with Jake, weren't you worried when he was joined?"

"Worried how? Do you mean, was I afraid the Taynam symbiont would change him?"

"No, not like that." Lexa shook her head, lowering her voice. "More like, how could you go on if you lost him, knowing that a part of him would live on but… but not be yours."

Abby's confusion morphed into understanding. "I was never worried about that, _because_ I knew a part of him would live on through Taynam. And through Taynam our love would continue." Abby rolled her eyes at herself. "I know that sounds incredibly sappy, but it's the truth. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

"But?"

Lexa's throat tightened, a confession just waiting to spill out.

 _Death is not the end. That's what we were taught. But what if I can't stand to be away from her? What if I need her too much? What if we break the rules of reassociation and condemn Cormier and Niehaus to premature deaths? What if_ …

She clenched her eyes shut. "But nothing."

"Hey."

Lexa opened her stinging eyes when she felt gentle hands gripping her arms. Abby smiled at her and the way her eyes crinkled in the corners reminded Lexa so much of Clarke that her chest began to ache.

"I have no answers for you, Lexa," Abby said. "But if there are any, I think we both know who can help you find them."

Lexa could only nod, grateful for Abby's help. Abby rubbed her arms in a soothing gesture before quietly leaving the exam room so Lexa could change out of her medical gown and back into her clothes. She was so lost in a swirl of thoughts about Clarke that she barely noticed the blonde before they nearly collided with each other in the hall.

"Clarke," Lexa breathed out, her heart leaping in her chest and Cormier flipping in response. And there it was again—the serenity that settled over her whenever Clarke was near, easing the tension in her muscles, alleviating the ache that had lodged between her ribs. It was all so clear and Lexa nearly laughed at her own foolishness.

"Lexa," Clarke blinked away her own surprise, her voice flat, then continued to brush past her. "Excuse me."

"Clarke wait." Lexa reached out and grasped Clarke's wrist. "We need to talk."

"I'm late for my appointment." Avoiding Lexa's gaze, Clarke tried to pull away, but Lexa held on.

"Please."

Clarke hesitated, meeting Lexa's eyes briefly before looking away and tilting her head forward in the barest of nods. "Later."

Later was better than nothing, and she released her hold on Clarke. Lexa remained firmly rooted to the spot as she watched Clarke proceed back to the examination rooms. And even though Clarke didn't once glance back, a quiet resolve began forming within Lexa, a calm dispersing the storm of her lingering fears and doubts.

* * *

They didn't talk.

Clarke was nothing if not stubborn, and the blonde continued to avoid Lexa. She didn't answer her communicator. She was never in her quarters. The longer Clarke wouldn't speak to her, the more frustrated Lexa grew.

Even Cormier seemed upset with Lexa. And the regret coursing through her made her feel sick, made her even more desperate to find Clarke and confess everything. How she'd been smitten with Clarke ever since that first day Clarke's family relocated to Trillius Prime from Earth. How, after Clarke had come over to introduce herself and invite Lexa to play with some face paint, smearing a black mask around Lexa's eyes and laughing because it reminded Clarke of an Earth animal called a "raccoon," Lexa had been hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. How, after that moment, Lexa knew she would follow Clarke to all the way to the end of the universe and back.

And so, it was with a swollen heart that Lexa arrived at the Symbiosis Commission's reception. Dressed in a black velvet gown, Lexa walked around the dimly lit ballroom, searching for Clarke, politely excusing herself from conversations with the other initiates. Frustration rising, she was about ready to check Clarke's quarters when she spotted Abby, who not so subtly nodded in the direction of the dance floor. Turning in the direction of Abby's prompt, Lexa finally- _finally_ -saw her.

Clarke was draped in a floor-length sheath dress that shimmered in silver, swaying in the arms of someone else. _Finn Collins_ , of all people.

Stomach churning, Lexa watched as Finn tightened his grip on Clarke, who grinned up at him. An irrational, cold rage burned in Lexa's chest, overriding the modicum of self-control she had left after being ignored by Clarke for days on end. She stalked toward the couple and unceremoniously tapped on Finn's shoulder, probably much harder than necessary.

Finn raised one eyebrow at her while Clarke's eyes momentarily widened in surprise before her features morphed into a neutral mask.

"Apologies," Lexa said to Finn though she wasn't sorry in the slightest. "But could you excuse us for a moment?"

"Lexa, now's not…" Clarke started.

But Lexa took her by the hand and led Clarke away before she could even finish the sentence, bringing them out onto a secluded balcony. The night was warm, slightly muggy, the humidity sticking to their skin.

"Lexa, what the hell?" Clarke seethed, yanking her hand from Lexa's grip, eyes flashing dangerously in the moonlight. "Have you lost your…"

She cupped Clarke's face and silenced the rest of her protest with her lips. Lexa put everything into the kiss, all her love, all her desperation, hoping to make up for her earlier cowardice. She felt Clarke tense in shock before she returned the kiss with equal fervor, curling her fingers around the nape of Lexa's neck and pulling her close.

Clarke's lips were so soft and Lexa felt dizzy, blood pounding in her veins, unable to comprehend that what she had dreamed about for years, what she had _ached_ for, was actually happening. Clarke pulled away after a small eternity, shallow breaths mingling with Lexa's, pupils blown wide as she searched Lexa's face for answers.

"Clarke." Lexa's own voice was foreign to her ears. It sounded weak. Needy. She had so much she wanted to say: how she was sorry, how she loved Clarke beyond all sense. Beyond all reason. How they could make it work. Somehow. Some way. But words were failing her, dissipating from her grasp. She was at Clarke's mercy, her heart offered on full display, vulnerable and yearning. "I'm so-"

"Shh," Clarke silenced Lexa with her fingertips, gaze softening. "I never should have doubted you."

She trailed her fingers up to Lexa's forehead and traced the patterns on Lexa's face in a familiar dance before a smile slowly formed on her face, a smile she tenderly pressed against Lexa's lips in warm acceptance and the vow of a new beginning, the start of a new life, together.

* * *

 **A/N: This is an early birthday present for OTP324B21! Chapter 1 is Clexa, Chapter 2 is Root x Shaw, Chapter 3 is Cophine. Hope you enjoy it!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Love_ was _weakness._

 _Of that, Cormier was positive._

 _It had familiarized itself with love. Learned its knots and intricacies. Partook in carnal pleasures and calming intimacies. Basked in fullness and light that only it could bring_

 _But through love, Cormier again knew the excruciating grip of loss. Helplessness. Of being torn asunder. And an emptiness that lingered, and lingered, and lingered into the next life and beyond._

 _And after several lifetimes, Cormier had enough of weakness. Of emotions. Could do without them, it was sure, if not for its hosts._

 _The hosts were the problem. They lacked the discipline to set aside the unnecessary and focus on true importance: Knowledge. Greatness. To do something and do it well._

 _If only it could figure out how to shut off its host's emotions, Cormier thought, how simple existence would be._

* * *

Shaw materialized inside a docking bay, phaser at the ready. As soon as the shimmer of the transporter beam faded, she crouched down to one knee and scanned her immediate surroundings. It was dark; the station's power turned down to conserve energy during off times. A lone shuttlecraft lay dormant in the center of the launchpad. Wasting no time, Shaw quickly swept the room, careful to keep her footfalls as light as possible on the alloy floor. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she tapped her combadge, which came alive with a chirp.

"All clear, Finch," she said, her voice low and steady.

 _Excellent_ , Finch said over the commlink in his usual monotone. _I downloaded the station's schematics to your tricorder. Make your way to OPS. That's where the number is currently heading._

"Roger that."

Shaw holstered her weapon and made her way out to the corridor, tugging down the hem of her gray-trimmed black jacket and yanking at the tight collar of her blue turtleneck.

"Was the Starfleet Uniform really necessary?" She asked. "It's cutting off my circulation."

 _You're infiltrating a Starfleet base, Ms. Cormier. I'm afraid you'll need more than your sunny disposition to blend in._

Shaw scowled at Finch's use of her symbiont's name. "It's just Shaw, Finch. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

 _Apologies. Old habits die hard._

She grunted and made a mental note to leave crumbs all around Finch's computer station the next time she had desk duty.

"Why in the hell is there a Starfleet base way out here anyway?" Shaw reached a turbolift and hailed it.

 _As far as I could gather, the station is your run-of-the-mill science observatory._

"Okay, but why in a butt fuck nowhere sector of the Trillium System?"

 _Don't like being so close to home, Shaw?_ A raspy new voice chimed in over the commline.

"That has nothing to do with it, Reese," Shaw snapped back.

 _Really?_ Reese asked and Shaw could practically see his smug half smirk. She wanted nothing more than to elbow it off his pretty boy face. _Then you'll have no problem swinging by Trillium Prime to perform your Zhian'tara._

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's not happening."

 _Ms. Cormier… er… Shaw,_ Finch interjected gingerly. _Might I impress upon you the importance of this ritual? It might prove beneficial to…"_

"Listen, Finch, I'm not about to sit around and sing my Kumbayas with my previous hosts just for shits and giggles," Shaw said as she stepped into the lift and commanded it to go to OPS. "So you can forget it."

 _I dunno, Shaw, it might be pretty interesting to see Fusco take on the spirit of the first Trill commander-in-chief of the Federation,_ Reese said. _What was her name? Lexa, right?_

Shaw felt a pull in her abdomen at the name and promptly ignored it. "Can we please just focus on the mission?" She checked to see that her favorite sidearm was tucked securely behind her back before she pulled out her phaser and set it to stun. "Do either of you have anything actually useful as to why our number is here?"

 _Nothing that we didn't know already,_ Finch said. _Caroline Turing. A psychologist who ran into a bit of trouble with the Trill Science Ministry concerning a project related to symbiont welfare._

"So either she found something they didn't like and they're trying to shut her up, or we've got some rebel nerd with a vendetta on our hands, is that it?"

 _Victim or perpetrator. That's what you're there to figure out, Ms. Shaw,_ Finch unhelpfully added as the turbolift slowed to a stop.

The doors slid open. Shaw deactivated her communicator and raised her phaser, eyes sweeping the command center for danger only to find it empty.

She took a tentative step into OPS and activated her communicator once again. "Finch, it's…" Shaw's gaze landed on several unconscious forms.

 _What's happening, Ms. Shaw?_

"Hold."

Four Starfleet officers lay on the ground next to unmanned, brightly blinking consoles. And near them, also sprawled on the floor, was Caroline Turing.

"The number's down," Shaw muttered, sprinting forward and kneeled next to the frail-looking woman. She holstered her phaser, brushed aside long strands of soft brown hair from Turing's neck, and pressed two fingers to her carotid artery.

 _Is she…?_

"Just out cold," Shaw replied when she felt a steady pulse. Satisfied that a number hadn't died on her watch (mostly because Finch would never shut up about it if it happened _again_ ), she moved to examine the fallen officers.

 _And the others?_

"All stunned," she assessed, eyeing the phaser burn marks on their uniforms, all at center mass. Shaw tried not to admire the sharpshooting. _Much._ "Looks like we've got company, boys. Anything on the sensors?"

 _There are no ships in the nearby vicinity._

"They can't have gotten far," Shaw said. "I'll start-"

She didn't finish her sentence thanks to the raw shock that seared through her body. Shaw collapsed painfully to the floor, muscles convulsing as she looked up into the smirking face of the number.

"I have to say I'm impressed," Turing said, her voice almost sing-song like as she wrapped two hands around Shaw's wrist dragged her to a chair. "I thought I lost you guys back in the Orion system. But you are nothing if not persistent."

With a grunt, she lifted Shaw and dumped her into a sitting position. Turing took out two titanium alloy zip strips and used them to bind Shaw to the arm rests. Shaw tried to break away, but her rigid body was unresponsive. Even Cormier wasn't moving and seemed to feel heavier than normal in Shaw's gut

 _Shaw?_ Reese was as calm and cool as ever, but Shaw could hear the concern lacing his tone. _What's happening?_

"You won't be needing this." Turing took Shaw's communicator and dropped it to the floor where it cracked and shattered underneath her boot heel. She moved away to a small device perched on top of a console, checked its screen and nodded at the displayed data.

"Now," she said, returning to Shaw and crouching down to her eye level. "Just who are you, sweetie?"

Shaw glared at Turing with the blazing power of a supernova.

"Starfleet uniform, but something tells me you and your friends aren't Starfleet." Turing's gaze trailed down the length of Shaw's body, unabashedly undressing her with her eyes, and Shaw burned in anger. "You're Trill. Private Service perhaps?" She pulled a tricorder out of her jacket pocket and aimed its sensor at Cormier. "Since you're not in a particularly chatty mood," she pouted, "why don't we find out just who you are."

Shaw grit her teeth as Turing performed the scan with a smirk. A smirk that slowly, but surely morphed into a frown as the results came up on the screen. "This can't…" Turing's brown eyes snapped up to Shaw's, smugness replaced by confusion. "You're…"

An alarm blared inside OPS, the station going to red alert, emergency lights illuminating the room in flashing red. Turing shot to her feet and collected her instruments, stuffing them quickly into her pockets.

"And just when we were starting to really connect," she said flippantly, typing something into her tricorder. "We'll have to do this again soon."

With a jaunty wave, Turing disappeared from OPS in the shimmering haze of a transporter beam just as Reese emerged from the turbolift and fired a late phaser beam shot at where Turing had been standing. His lips formed a grim line as he surveyed the room and noted Shaw's predicament.

"I've got her, Finch," he said as he walked toward Shaw, who now trained her glare on him. "Guess Turing was the perp after all."

* * *

Shaw massaged her temples, which pounded from a migraine eating away at her brain. She sat across from Finch, his fingers tapping away on a data padd.

"So Turing isn't Turing," Shaw said, reaching out to pick up Bear from the edge of Finch's desk. The black and brown Tribble cooed in response.

"I'm afraid not," Finch said. A stream of stars streaked behind him through their ship's window.. "The real Dr. Caroline Turing was found dead in her office this morning by the Trill Private Service."

"So who was my new friend at the station then?" Shaw asked as she snuggled Bear.

"That's what I'm still trying to determine. No fingerprint or DNA matches in any database. She doesn't exist."

"Guess we're not the only ones in the universe who can disappear, Finch," Reese said as he entered the office, a tray of food in his hands.

"Evidently not, Mr. Reese." Finch nodded in gratitude as Reese placed sandwiches down on the desk.

Shaw gently set down Bear and greedily grabbed her plate, taking three massive bites in quick succession before she grimaced at the cardboard-like taste. She was too hungry to spit it out though.

"Replicator food? Really?" She asked around a mouthful of synthesized bread, meat, and cheese, breaking off small bits to feed to the tribble. "The trials and _tribbl_ ations of Bear and Shaw. They're trying to poison us."

Mouth drawn in an unamused line, Reese shrugged and sat down next to Shaw. "It's all we have until Carter and Fusco get back from their supply run. Unless you'd rather eat some combat rations."

"Pass." Shaw swallowed and returned her attention back to Finch. "So you've got nothing? What about what she was downloading?"

"As far as I can tell, nothing but medical records of Trill Starfleet personnel."

Something twinged in Shaw's gut and it wasn't the fake food. "Trill personnel?"

"Does that raise some red flags for you, Ms. Shaw?" Finch asked.

Shaw wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You could say that. Before the cavalry showed up late," she gave Reese a look, "she scanned Cormier and got spooked."

Finch's eyebrows pinched together behind his spectacles. "Spooked?"

"Yeah." Shaw shrugged.

"Could she be someone you knew before?" Reese suggested. "From one of your past lives?"

Shaw shook her head even as uncertainty sank within her. "I don't know. It's possible."

"Well, it seems our first order of business will be to look into the Trill our mysterious friend has taken an interest in," Finch said, pushing his glasses up. "At least until we get another hit on her location from the Machine."

Nodding, Shaw bit into her sandwich again, chewing slowly and purposefully, pointedly ignoring the memory of mischievous brown eyes and a devious smirk.

* * *

Quark's was in full swing by the time Shaw arrived. In comparison to the rest of the Cardassian-designed station, with its drab, dark, and spartan decor, the bar was bright with commotion. The sweet scent of Bajoran synthale permeated the air amid raucous shouting and cheering around the dabo tables, where people won and lost fortunes of gold-pressed latinum at the whim of a spinning wheel.

Shaw swaggered up to the metal bar, confident in her all black attire-jeans, boots, tanktop,leather jacket. She came to stand next to a heavy set, lumpy-looking Lurian who barely spared her a glance with his sunken, beady eyes before turning back to his drink.

"I'm in position, Finch," Shaw muttered over her open comm line, eyes scanning the tables lining the second and third floors of the bar. "You sure our _friend_ is here?"

 _Starfleet feeds captured her arriving at Deep Space Nine at nineteen hundred hours and entering the gambling establishment soon thereafter._

Her searching gaze stopped on two Trill women sitting at a small table on one of the railed balconies. Vengeful anticipation coursed through Shaw, heart speeding up with adrenaline.

"I've got eyes on the target," she reported, watching as the mark flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and leaned forward to cover her companion's hand with her own.

 _I hope I needn't have to remind you, Ms. Cormier…_

"Shaw."

Finch let out an exasperated sigh. _Ms. Shaw, we must exercise caution and…_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Shaw interrupted. "I'll keep you posted."

She shut off her communicator with a swift tap to her ear just as a Ferengi bartender shuffled up to her. He leaned an elbow on the bar, lips spreading into a toothy smile, sharp and uneven.

"Welcome to my humble establishment," he said, trying for charming, but reaching only smarmy. "What can I get for you, stranger?"

Shaw threw three strips of gold-pressed latinum onto the bar and his eyes lit up with glee.

"Aldebaran whiskey," she ordered. "The good stuff. You try to give me any of that synthesized shit and I'll know it."

Quark's smile only widened as he winked. "I like a woman who knows what she wants." His hands disappeared under the bar and then reappeared with a long, thin bottle filled with lime green liquid. He poured the liquor into two glasses, sliding one to Shaw and taking one for himself.

He took a dainty sip while Shaw downed the drink in one shot, enjoying the sweet burn that spread through her chest. She slapped the glass down for another.

"We don't see many Trill around these parts," he said, refilling her cup and unabashedly eyeing the spots that trailed down the sides of her face. "What, pray tell, brings a beauty like you to this godforsaken corner of the universe?"

Eyes narrowing into slits, Shaw ignored his question. "The trill women on the third floor," she said. "What do you know about them?"

Quark glanced up to where Shaw had indicated, face scrunching up slightly in confusion before he quickly schooled his expression into something neutral.

"What's it to you?" He asked.

"You seem like a smart guy," Shaw observed, this time placing a bar of gold-pressed latinum onto the bar's surface. "The real question is: what's _in_ it for _you_."

As Shaw had expected, Quark was a typical, money-grubbing Ferengi through and through, and he greedily snatched up the currency. "Woman on the right is a Starfleet officer by the name of Jadzia Dax."

"That's Dax, huh?" Shaw asked, instantly recognizing the name.

Her eyes honed in on the women again. Dax was, after all, one of the most well-known (and notorious) symbionts on Trill. Its current host, Shaw had to admit, was pretty damn attractive, with long chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail. Dax let out a throaty laugh at something the target said and Shaw scowled.

"Dax and I, we kind of have a thing," Quark said smugly.

"Yeah, sure." Shaw rolled her eyes. "And the other woman?"

"Arrived at the station earlier today. A Federation translator by the name of Kelly Dyson."

"Dyson," Shaw repeated what was undoubtedly another alias. "How do they know each other?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Quark shrugged. "Maybe they knew each other in a past life."

 _Past life._

There it was again, an uncomfortable tickle in Shaw's abdomen at the suggestion. She watched Dyson lean forward and whisper something in Dax's ear. Dax nodded and let Dyson lead her by the hand back toward one of the holosuites. She turned back toward Quark, who grinned lasciviously after the two women.

"I'm going to need access to that holosuite," Shaw said.

Quark looked at her, feigning shock at her statement. "My, my, but that would be _illegal._ Not to mention, I personally don't believe in invading the privacy of my cust-"

"I've got 50 bars of latinum just waiting to be transported into your personal safe," Shaw interrupted. "But if you're not interested…"

"Whoa, hey, hold on now," Quark quickly replied, hands shooting up. "Let's not be hasty." He glanced to his left, then his right, scanning the crowd as he reached inside his gaudy jacket and pulled out a cylindrical glass key.

Shaw moved to take it, but Quark kept it just out of reach. "Ah, ah," he said. "First things first."

Shaw tapped on her communicator. "Finch, drop the goods."

 _Copy_ , Finch replied.

She nodded to the Ferengi, who sauntered to a nearby computer screen and typed in some commands. Within seconds, a pleased smile bloomed on his face and he held out a hand for Shaw to shake.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Ms.?"

"Ifutel."

"Ifutel?"

Shaw took the proffered hand and clamped down on the Ferengi's fingers, tugging him close. "As in, _if you tell_ anyone you talked to me, you can kiss oo-mox goodbye 'cause I'll cut off your lobes with an Andorrian butter knife. Is that clear?"

"Dilithium clear," Quark gasped in pain.

Shaw smiled her sweetest, deadliest smile. "Good."

She released Quark, leaving him slack-jawed and begrudgingly impressed, and quickly bounded up a spiral staircase to the holosuite floors, tapping her communicator.

"Finch, I'm in pursuit of the target," she said.

 _Ms. Shaw, I strongly suggest you wait for backup. Detective Fusco is on his way._

Shaw rolled her eyes as she reached the appropriate bay entrance, quickly opening an access panel and inserting Quark's key to override the locks.

"The target could be halfway through the wormhole by the time Fusco's donut-eating ass gets here," Shaw said.

 _Hey, you know I can hear you, right?_ Fusco retorted over the line. _It's not like I don't have better things to do than clean up after you guys all the time."_

"What, like a hot date?" Shaw snorted.

 _Maybe_.

"Whatever you say, lady killer." Shaw half grinned as the doors slid open. "I'm going in. Catch up when you can."

Shaw cut off comms before Finch could predictably object and slipped inside, retrieving her Nano from the holster underneath her jacket. No phasers today. She had a little _surprise_ for Dyson.

Shaw wasn't quite sure what she'd encounter inside the holosuite-a depraved sexual fantasy, perhaps?-but the last thing she expected to find was a hauntingly familiar field, the sweet scent of earth and grass filling her senses. The mid-day sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. In the distance stood a gigantic tree that Shaw-or rather, _Cormier_ -hadn't seen in at least two lifetimes. The symbiont stirred and Shaw's mouth curved downward as a foreign sensation swirled in her stomach. How did Dyson obtain the parameters for this holosuite program? And, more importantly, why did she?

"Computer, end simulation," Shaw said.

 _Command not recognized,_ a monotone female voice replied. _Administrator access required._

Shaw cursed under her breath. Turning in a slow circle, weapon ready, Shaw searched for any signs of Dyson or Dax, but found nothing. With no other options, Shaw walked toward the tree cautiously, preparing for any sudden attacks.

None came.

And before long, Shaw stood at the base of the tree next to a massive root that arched over her head. She reached out one hand and skimmed her palm along the rough bark. Memories that both weren't and _were_ her own flooded her mind, of long summer days spent climbing roots and branches and napping in the shade, until her fingers stopped at a patch of messy, uneven carvings:

 _Clarke_ followed by _Lexa_.

And beneath them, cut by a surer hand, was:

 _CGN LKC_

Shaw froze and Cormier throbbed in her gut, both lost in their recollections of Clarke slicing the newer initials into the wood shortly after she and Lexa been joined with their symbionts. Thanks to Cormier, Shaw could practically feel Clarke in her arms, could smell wildflowers on her soft skin as she-as _Lexa_ -had held Clarke from behind, kissing the spots that trailed down the side of her neck.

"Like what you see?"

Trance broken at the sound of the airy, teasing voice, Shaw whirled around and trained her Nano on a smirking Dyson, ready to fire, but she hesitated. Paused too long when she caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and playful eyes.

In the split-second it took for Shaw to recover, it was already too late. With a casual flick of Dyson's wrist, Shaw was mortified to find herself immobilized _again_ , her limbs trapped in some kind of invisible force field.

"What the hell?" Shaw growled, struggling in vain to free herself.

"Personal forcefield projecters," Dyson explained, approaching Shaw and easily pulling the gun from her hands. "Tweaked them myself."

"You want a pat on the back of something? Turn 'em off and I'll gladly give you one with my fists."

Dyson's smirk only grew. "As _enticing_ as that sounds, I'm gonna need you to stay where you are and explain a few things to me." She checked the Nano's clip.

"I'm not explaining shit," Shaw spat out. "Where's Dax?"

"Safe for now," Dyson said, tilting her head to the side in amusement. "Unlike you." She pointed the weapon at Shaw's leg, just above her kneecap. "I have to admit, I've been very curious about you since our last meeting. It's not every day I get to meet a dead trill."

Shaw clenched her jaw and said nothing as she stared impassively at Dyson.

"Sameen Shaw," Dyson stated. "Impressive stint in Starfleet medical. Joined with the Cormier symbiont. And ultimately recruited into Section 31 as Indigo Five Alpha."

Shaw tried to avoid any physical reaction to Dyson's recitation of her career path, but something must have shown on her face, because Dyson moved closer, leaning into Shaw's personal space and whispering into her ear: "Section 31 doesn't officially exist, of course, but we both know better."

If Shaw could move, she would have head-butted Dyson right between the eyes. She was about to tell Dyson where she could shove her attempt at a conversation when the scent of wildflowers hit her and Cormier lurched inside her.

"But according to those 'non-existent' Section 31 records, Indigo Five Alpha was canceled from the program. So, my questions for you: how did you survive and why are you and your friends following me?"

"We're following you," Shaw said, "because you're a murderer. And we take care of murderers."

Dyson pulled back. "I haven't murdered anyone. Lately, that is."

"Yeah? Tell that to Caroline Turing."

Dyson shook her head.. "I'll admit to killing a few people in my day, when warranted, but Turing wasn't one of them." She walked in a slow circle around Shaw. "You really should do your due diligence before you go around making accusations." She pouted. "You could hurt people's feelings."

"So you just innocently stole her identity and broke into a Starfleet base out of the goodness of your heart? Is that also why you've done God knows what with Dax?"

Dyson stopped in front of Shaw once more. "Dax is a means to an end. To verify information and," she licked her lips, "to see _you_ again."

Agitated, Shaw fought against her invisible bonds and Dyson chuckled.

"There's a method to the madness," she said. "A plan. I could use your help."

Shaw let out a bitter laugh. "Me? Help you? I'd rather be floated out an airlock."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Pretty sure I don't help criminals."

"And what about former wives?"

Shaw blinked, unsure she heard correctly. "What?"

"You mean you don't recognize me… Cormier? And here I thought you loved _Niehaus_."

The name hit Shaw right in the solar plexus, leaving her breathless from the resulting turmoil from Cormier. Over its past lives, Cormier had made it a point to keep tabs on Niehaus. And Shaw, not one to break that tradition, didn't question it. She knew that Niehaus had been joined with a brilliant computer programmer by the name of Samantha Groves. Shaw had stared at the image of a youthful face with straight, shoulder-length. Pretty. Unassuming. Shaw had looked at the image once and then never again thereafter, putting Samantha Niehaus out of her mind until Shaw learned that both host and symbiont had perished in a Maquis raid.

Shaw had never felt emotions strongly; she had her Axis II disorder to thank for that. And even after she had joined with Cormier, she still didn't feel emotions with the same intensity as other people. So the wrenching pain she had felt at Niehaus's loss had taken Shaw completely by surprise. She hadn't cried even when her own father had died. And yet, tears had fallen from her eyes when she heard the news about Samantha Niehaus, a woman and symbiont Shaw had never met. Not personally.

"Niehaus is dead," Shaw finally said, burying the memory as deeply as she could.

"Just like Sameen Shaw Cormier's dead, right?"

Shaw squinted at Dyson, trying to reconcile the picture of the pretty, geeky girl Shaw had seen once so many years ago with the deadly beauty in front of her now. Were there similarities? Were they all in her head? Shaw was skeptical, but the strange amalgamation of emotions flaring from Cormier were starting to make her feel unsure and queasy.

"You're telling me you're Samantha Niehaus?" Shaw asked.

"I haven't gone by that name in a long time." Dyson walked forward again until she stood mere inches from Shaw. "It's Root now."

"Root?" Shaw scoffed. "I don't know what's harder to believe, that Niehaus is still alive or that it'd let you pick such a stupid name."

Root gave Shaw another flippant smile. "Look around you. How would I even know this place, and what it means to us, if not for Niehaus?"

"It doesn't mean shit to me," Shaw lied. " _When_ I get out of here and prove that you're _lying_ , I won't be turning you over to the authorities. I will _end you._ "

Root's features darkened, but she didn't move away. Instead, she reached out and cupped Shaw's jaw between two cold hands. She was so close that Shaw could feel her words puff against her face.

"I never doubted you, Cormier," Root whispered, her eyes suddenly soft and familiar despite their shades of brown instead of blue. "Don't doubt me now." She traced Shaw's markings with the tips of her fingers and Shaw was grateful that the immobilizing force field hid the shiver she couldn't quite suppress.

A moan emanated from somewhere near the roots of the tree, breaking their connection. _Dax._ Shaw had forgotten about the Starfleet scientist.

"That's my cue," Root said, suddenly grabbing Shaw by the lapels and kissing her hard on the lips. It was sharp and bruising and over before Shaw could even process what was happening.

With a wink, Root was gone.

And Shaw was left shocked and reeling in her wake, heart racing to Warp 9 as Dax's groans grew louder and Fusco finally arrived, red-faced and out of breath, mouth dropping when his eyes landed on Shaw.

"What the hell happened?" He asked, rushing over to her and destroying the forcefield projectors with several well-aimed phaser blasts.

Shaw landed on her knees with a grunt and promptly shot back up to her feet. "Don't ask," she said, already sprinting toward the exit. "Take care of Dax."

When Shaw was out of the holosuite, she bounded down the stairs and pushed through the crowds on the main floor (ignoring Quark's look of surprise) and into the open space of the station's busy Promenade.

"Finch." Shaw opened her communicator.

 _Ms. Shaw, is everything all right?_

"Just peachy. Where's Root?"

 _Who?_

Shaw nearly growled even though she had no right to be frustrated with Finch. "The target, Finch."

 _She was last seen heading in the direction of the docking ring. Port 4._

"Is there any way you can slow her down?"

 _I'm afraid not. Although we have eyes in the station, their computer system is heavily protected. Impressively so._

Shaw would just have to catch up the old fashioned way. She ran as fast as she could, past the infirmary, a Bajoran temple, and a Cardassian tailor's shop, slowing her pace as she went by a security office where a grim-faced Changeling (who, oddly enough, reminded her of Reese) eyed her with suspicion.

By the time she reached Port 4, phaser at the ready, Shaw was out of breath and a few minutes too late. She watched as Root's shuttle detached from the station, its impulse engines glowing a bright blue as it pulled away. Shaw kicked the cog-like docking bay doors and pounded a fist on the glass, unable to believe she let Root escape.

 _Again._

* * *

Shaw stared at the image on the data padd that Zoe Morgan set down on the coffee table in front of her.

"This is...?"

Zoe leaned back on Shaw's sofa and crossed her legs. "The last known public image of Samantha Niehaus before the Maquis raid."

It was _Root_ all right. All flowing brown hair and playful smirk. Shaw scowled at the picture, as if her glare alone would be enough to make it untrue.

"You guys have been tracking her," Zoe observed.

Shaw shook her head. "Not anymore. Finch thinks we've used too many resources trying to track a ghost."

"Then why did you need the info?"

Shaw shrugged up a shoulder."Finch always says I need a hobby."

If Zoe didn't approve, she didn't show it. It was one of the things Shaw liked most about the "fixer." Zoe didn't look at Shaw with disappointment (like Finch) or mild judgment (like Reese), or like she was some psycho (like Fusco). Zoe let her be and lent a helping hand when needed without narcing her out to the others, or at the very least to Reese (Shaw was pretty sure they were banging on the side). In fact, even if Shaw wouldn't admit it to herself, Zoe reminded her of _someone_ ; a Trill from a past life, even though Zoe herself was 100% human.

"Well then." Zoe nodded and one corner of her lips turned up into a half grin. She lifted a glass of Terran whiskey and clinked their cups together. "To hobbies."

"To hobbies," Shaw agreed.

Zoe finished her drink and stood. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Will do." Shaw knocked back her own drink as Zoe walked to the door. "Say hi to tall, dark, and deranged for me."

Turning and walking backwards out of Shaw's quarters, Zoe smirked. "Why, whoever would you be talking about?"

After Zoe left, Shaw picked up the the data padd and propped her legs up on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. She read up on everything Zoe had found about Samantha Groves: how she had grown up on Earth ( _Just like Clarke_ -the thought coming unbidden to a frowning Shaw), how she had been highly touted by the Symbiosis Commission, how she and Niehaus were expected to revolutionize computer programming and development. She read until her eyes drooped. She was about ready to pass out when her inbox chimed with a new message.

Shaw jolted awake, groggily frowning at the data padd. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled up the message. It contained nothing but a time and coordinates; coordinates Shaw knew like the spots on her body.

She had no doubt who sent them.

And she shouldn't care. She should ignore all the foreign _feelings_ manifesting from Cormier. But she couldn't and she scowled down at her abdomen.

"You're a traitor, you know that," she said out loud. Unnecessarily. Cormier knew all her thoughts.

And though it could have responded more directly, Cormier only twisted in reply.

* * *

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Shaw."

Shaw checked that her phaser was fully charged..

"And I didn't think you going all solo-vigilante on HR last year was such a good idea either, Carter, but I helped you anyway."

Joss Carter sighed and swiveled her chair back to the control panel of their shuttle, piloting it to a high orbit around Trillius Prime with a few swift keystrokes. The planet loomed large in the view screen, a blue-green globe swirled with white, and Shaw couldn't help the pang of homesickness that twinged in her chest.

"Finch won't be happy."

"Is he ever?" Shaw secured her weapon in its holster and shrugged on her leather jacket. "Finch doesn't need to know. And if anyone asks, I'm here to plan my Zhian'tara. Nothing suspicious about that."

Carter chuckled. "You think a sudden interest in your Zhian'tara isn't suspicious?"

Shaw cracked half a smile as she stepped inside the circle of the shuttle's transporter pad. "Good point. At least I'll have a head start."

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Carter looked at Shaw over her shoulder.

"I'm sure," Shaw said. "This is something I have to do on my own."

"And if things go south?"

"They won't."

Carter raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn't protest further. She tapped at the controls and activated the transporter beam.

"One more thing," Carter said. "You better get that Nano back. I'm not buying you a new one."

A full-blown grin broke out on Shaw's face and she jauntily saluted Carter with two fingers as the transporter beam shimmered around her.

Shaw touched down outside the Caves of Mak'ala to deafening thunderclaps and the hiss of a storm. Hot raindrops pelted away at her, fast and furious. Drenched within seconds, Shaw moved quickly through the forest, mud squishing underneath her boots. The driving rain made it difficult to see much of anything, even with the brief flashes of lightning in the dark sky, but she still reached the perimeter of the trees within minutes. Staying in the shadows for cover, Shaw cautiously approached the caves' entrance only to find the force field at the security checkpoint already deactivated, the guards unconscious near their posts.

Pulling out her phaser, Shaw walked straight in. Unlike the sleek and modern alloys of the guardpost, the cave was ancient and unchanged, its rocks and dirt untouched over millennia, the damp and musty smell comforting to both Cormier and Shaw. She removed her hair tie and squeezed as much water out of the dripping strands, slicking her bangs back before redoing her usual ponytail.

Shaw crouched through the dimly lit corridors, careful to keep her footfalls light, relying on sensory memory to guide her through the underground maze to the cavern she was sure she'd find Root. The cavern where it all began.

The narrow passageway eventually opened up into a more spacious chamber. Torches hung from the curved walls that spiralled downward to a pool of milky white. Sure enough, Shaw saw Root wading in the middle of the murky water. She was completely naked, having forgone the traditional white robes used to enter the symbiont reservoirs.

Her long damp hair was plastered to the sides of her face, draping down to her bare breasts, and Shaw swallowed.

Hard.

Root moved slowly, deliberately, not stopping until she reached the center. She stood still, eyes closed, head canted ever so slightly to the side, as if she were listening to faint music.

Shaw drew closer, careful to not make a sound, wishing there was a way she could take a shot at Root without endangering the symbionts within the pool. She hid behind a stalagmite and waited for Root to make a move. After what felt like a small eternity, Root lowered herself into the water until she was shoulder-deep. Smiling, she stood back up just as slowly. In her hands was a symbiont. It thrashed and writhed, like a violent newborn baby, and Root carried it to a portable containment unit.

Anger and confusion burned through Shaw as she watched Root place the symbiont gently inside the unit and activate it, a stasis field coming to life with a hum. Once Root lifted herself out of the pool, Shaw emerged from her hiding spot and, weapon raised, swiftly closed the distance between herself and Root.

"Don't move," she ordered, forcing her eyes to stare at the back of Root's head and not the fine curve of her backside.

Root tensed but made no other motions other than to raise her hands. "I was wondering when you'd show up," she said, tone light. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, I missed you like a Borg probe up my ass," Shaw snapped.

"That can be arranged." Root winked over her shoulder and Shaw rolled her eyes.

"Turn around," Shaw growled. "Slowly."

Shaw regretted the order as soon as it flew out of her mouth. Root did as she was told, lips curled up in a self-satisfied smile. Nudity wasn't new to Shaw. As a former doctor, she had seen many naked lifeforms from across the galaxy. But her body betrayed her in that instant, heat coiling low as she took in Root's small, but perfectly shaped breasts, hard nipples, taut stomach, and…

Shaw grit her teeth and cautiously approached the other woman, kicking her discarded clothes toward her. "Get dressed." She bent down and snatched up Root's weapons, quickly recovering her Nano and tucking it into the back of her pants. She kept Root's phaser in her left hand and pointed it and her own at Root.

"Don't try anything stupid or I'll fry you," Shaw warned.

"Sounds cozy." Root winked and pulled on her clothes as Shaw moved to the containment unit. Her fingers flew over the touchpad to release the symbiont, but the controls were locked.

"What's the password?" Shaw asked.

"No clue."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You can believe whatever you want, sweetie. It's not my unit."

"Right. Then whose is it?"

"A client's."

Shaw tightened her grip on the phasers, patience stretched dangerously thin. "What client?"

"Anonymity works best in this line of work," Root answered, nonplussed, "as I'm sure you already know."

Shaw didn't believe Root for one nanosecond, but instead of continuing to question her in circles, she tried to tap out a few more commands into the keypad to no avail, eventually smacking it in frustration.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Root said. "You never know what kind of failsafes are installed on those units. Wouldn't want to hurt the symbiont now, would you?"

"Why are you doing this? The Niehaus I knew would never do this."

Root tilted her head to the side. "Maybe you don't know Niehaus as well as you think you do. Or _Clarke_."

Rage bubbled in Shaw's gut, bitterly searing up high into her chest. She could practically taste the way it burned on her tongue. "Clarke would never endanger our kind."

"You're wrong." Root's expression hardened. "Whatever part of her lives on in Niehaus would approve."

"Of what? Attacking Starfleet personnel? Kidnapping symbionts?"

"Of exposing the truth. _For our people."_

Shaw barked out an incredulous laugh. "You're delusional."

But Root was no longer listening. Instead, her eyes drifted up toward the ceiling, as if she was listening to something, before they landed back on Shaw, corners crinkled in amusement.

"Looks like we're out of time," Root said. "Welcoming party. Six o'clock."

Shaw barely turned her head when the first phaser blasts shot out. She dove behind the ledge of the symbiont pool just as rocks shattered above her head and rained down debris that stuck to her still damp skin. Root pressed up against the stone next to Shaw.

"Could I please have a weapon?" Root asked, calmly, like she wanted Shaw to pass her some butter at the dinner table.

"No fucking way."

"If I had wanted to kill you, Shaw, I would have done it by now."

"You wish."

Shaw peeked up over the cover and counted at least four guards, possibly more, situated between them and the exit. She briefly returned fire and ducked back down to avoid another spray of phaser beams. The stench of ozone, smoke and earth made Shaw's eyes water, but she could still see Root's smug smirk.

"Fine, take it." She shoved back Root's phaser. "But once we're out of this mess, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Can I have a second one please?"

"Seriously?"

Root lifted one delicately shaped eyebrow, and Shaw rolled her eyes.

"That's lame, but whatever." Shaw handed over her phaser and whipped out her Nano.

Root wrapped the containment unit's strap around her torso. "They'll think twice before shooting at the symbiont," she explained. "Cover me."

Shaw nodded, counted to three, rose up, and pulled the trigger. Amid the deafening discharge of solid, lead bullets ricocheting around the underground chamber, Root sprung to action, lithe and swift. She closed the gap to the guards within seconds, firing both phasers with deadly precision. By the time Shaw reloaded and re-aimed, the room was clear.

"You coming?" Root called out over her shoulder.

Shaw scrambled to her feet and quickly followed Root, passing by the stunned guards and vehemently rejecting the idea that seeing Root in action was in any way, shape, or form, _hot._ They dashed out back into the thick of the storm, making it just inside the tree line before Shaw grabbed Root by the elbow and pulled her to a whirling stop.

"Don't think I'm letting you get away with that symbiont," Shaw said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the unrelenting rain.

"Or what?" Root asked. "You'll shoot me?"

Shaw aimed her Nano right at Root's irritating smirk. "With pleasure."

"Kinky. But what if I shoot _you_ first?" Root glanced down and Shaw followed her gaze to the phasers Root had trained right at Shaw's abdomen. At _Cormier._ "I have been wondering about who has the faster fingers."

Shaw told herself she could do it, that she _should_ do it-just pull the trigger and be done with it. She'd done it countless times before, for a countless number of perpetrators. All she had to do was squeeze. But in the face of this woman, with dark eyes wide and intense, Shaw couldn't do it. Or rather, _Cormier_ wouldn't let her.

Shaw was about to lower her weapon when the sizzle of a phaser burst seared through the air, evaporating water and nearly singeing her with residual heat. The blast hit Root on her left leg and she cried out in pain. As Root crumpled to the ground, knees sinking into the sodden earth, Shaw's heart jolted.

Succumbing to pure protective instinct, eyes glazed with cold rage, Shaw spun low and fired, emptying her Nano's clip while aiming at kneecaps the way Reese taught her. She hit her targets despite the poor visibility from the storm and while she normally might have taken some sense of pride in the feat-and would definitely gloat about it to Reese and Fusco later-she didn't have the time at the moment. Holstering her weapon, she swiftly crouched down, threw one of Root's arms around her shoulder and lifted the injured woman.

"If you had any sort of escape plan, now would be the time," Shaw gritted out as she dragged the other woman deeper into the forest before more reinforcements arrived.

Wincing in pain, Root reached into her jacket with her free hand and pulled out a tricorder. She stopped them, flipped it open, and punched in a series of commands.

"Hold on tight," Root managed a weak wink and Shaw could do nothing but grudgingly oblige, subconsciously squeezing Root's waist and pulling her closer.

* * *

They materialized in a dark room illuminated faintly by light filtering through gaps in the blinds.

"Computer," Root ordered, "lights."

The room brightened and Shaw took in their surroundings: a starkly furnished living area, all hard lines and edges in a color palette of blacks, whites, and grays. It was too clean, too cold, too sterile to be occupied. Shaw guessed, correctly, that it was a safe house.

Root detached herself from Shaw and limped to a cabinet while Shaw moved to the window and peeked outside. There was no sign of a storm. The pavement outside was dry. No water dripped from trees or coated the grass. More importantly, the street was empty, save for a few parked vehicles along the sidewalk. They were nowhere near the caves.

"I routed the transporter beam through multiple pattern buffers around the planet," Root said, breaths heavy. She removed the containment unit's strap from her shoulder and gently set it on the ground. "They won't be able to trace us here."

Shaw could admit that was an impressive feat, even if she would never say it aloud. Especially not to Root. She stepped back from the window and warily squinted at Root, who hissed in pain as she crouched down in front of a cabinet, pulled out a medkit, and then moved to a couch.

Snapping the kit open, Root rummaged through it, tossing out random medical instruments until she found one shaped like a tuning fork. She activated it - to the wrong setting, one that would turn the burn on Root's outer thigh into a painful keloid scar - and Shaw surprised herself when she stomped over to Root. She snatched the device from her hand and quickly adjusted it to the _correct_ setting. She also fished out a hypospray from the kit, loaded it with a vial of acetaminophen, and pressed it to Root's hip, dispensing the medicine in a soft hiss.

"For the pain," Shaw said brusquely.

Root quickly covered up the surprise that flashed across her face with playful smugness.

"I was hoping you'd play doctor." She quirked an eyebrow up suggestively.

Mouth set in an unamused line, Shaw hooked her fingers in the rip on Root's soaked pants leg and tore it wider, much rougher than necessary, eliciting a gasp from Root. Shaw would have smiled with vindictive satisfaction if not for the way Root watched her, lips parted, pupils blown so wide that Shaw could barely see any brown in her eyes. Swallowing hard, Shaw ignored the accompanying twinge in her gut and focused on healing Root's wound.

Silence fell around them, save for the hum of the dermal regenerator and Root's labored breathing, which slowly and steadily evened out.

"You know you won't be leaving here in one piece if you try to take that symbiont," Shaw commented, her focus trained on repairing Root's skin, the tissue healing and stitching back together.

Root smiled, the corners of her lips barely quirking up. "You keep telling yourself that, sweetie."

Shaw scoffed. "You're awfully confident for someone about to be locked away for the rest of her life."

"If I'm arrested, there's only one way this will end," Root replied matter-of-factly. "And it won't be with me in prison."

Shaw's stomach clenched involuntarily. "Not if I turn you over to Starfleet."

"You and I both know the Trill government won't accept that."

Root was right. Trill who committed felonies weren't afforded the luxury of incarceration. For them, the only penalty was symbiont separation and host death.

Shaw chanced a glance at Root, who regarded her with a calm expression that still somehow made Shaw's heart race uncomfortably.

"Then I hope this was all worth it," she said as she finished and turned off the regenerator.

"Of course it is." Root said leaned forward slightly to inspect her skin, slightly pink and tender, but completely intact. Good as new. "Like I said, it's for our people."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes." Root looked up, eyes dark and serious. "Ever hear of Joran Dax?"

"Joran Dax?" Shaw rocked back on her heels, brows knitting. "I've heard of Joran Belar, the pianist. But not Joran Dax."

"That's not surprising. All records of his joining were purged from Trill databases."

Something clicked at the back of Shaw's mind. "But not Starfleet's."

Root nodded. She stood and walked to a drinks trolley, pulling out two crystal glasses and a decanter of Aldebaran whiskey.

"In 2285, Torias Dax was involved in a fatal shuttle accident," Root explained as she opened the bottle and sniffed, scrunching up her nose from the strong scent. "Officially, Torias was in a coma for six months before his isoboromine levels dropped and Dax was removed."

"And unofficially?" Shaw asked as Root she poured the liquor into the glasses.

"Dax was joined with Joran Belar," Root said, holding out a drink to Shaw, who eyed it warily. Sighing, Root took a sip of her own whiskey to prove it wasn't drugged.

Satisfied, Shaw accepted the glass and brought it to her lips, savoring one long pull. "Belar wasn't selected by the Symbiosis Commission."

"No, he wasn't."

"Then how could he possibly have been joined?" Shaw positioned herself between Root and the stasis unit. The movement wasn't lost on Root, who smirked. "The symbiont would have outright rejected him."

"That's what they want us all to believe; that only one Trill host in a thousand is capable of joining.." Root moved back to the couch and sat down. "But the truth is, Joran hosted Dax for months before he became unstable."

"Unstable how?"

"Oh, you know, cold-blooded murderer unstable," Root replied with a flippant wave of her free hand. "In the end, the Commission removed Dax, blocked its memories, and placed it in another host."

Shaw took a deep breath as the implications sunk in. "And Starfleet had this intel because…?"

"The memory block eroded while Dax was joined with a certain Starfleet officer," Root said.

"Jadzia Dax," Shaw said, remembering the woman Root had sat with at the bar on DS9. "So what's your endgame here? Release this information? Because if you did, that would lead to-"

"Chaos," Root finished for her. "I'm well aware. Symbionts would become commodities to be purchased and fought over. Not lives to be cherished and revered."

"Then why even pursue this?"

Root set her glass down and scooted to the edge of the couch cushion. "What if I told you that symbionts could be more plentiful?"

"How? They procreate once every three generations."

"Cloning."

Shaw choked as she polished off her drink, coughing as it burned up her sinuses.

"Symbiont cloning is impossible," Shaw managed to say roughly after clearing her throat. "Attempts led to neural degeneration for both the host and the cloned symbionts."

"I'm impressed, Shaw," Root smiled. "But nothing is impossible. Those trials were conducted generations ago. Science has advanced by leaps and bounds. Unfortunately, with the Commission's ban on cloning, any new breakthroughs will be forever out of reach. Unless..."

Shaw's gaze returned to the stasis unit and the dormant symbiont within. "So you _do_ know who your client is."

"Not exactly. But I have a few guesses."

Grunting, Shaw returned her attention to Root, who stood and walked slowly toward her. She took the empty glass from Shaw's hand, stopping much closer than necessary. She smelled like sweat and rain and blood and something that made Shaw's mind fuzzy. Something she couldn't blame entirely on the whiskey. Shaw resisted the urge to step back.

"I might not know you, Shaw," Root said, her voice dropping to a timber that caused a shiver to run down Shaw's spine. "Not yet. But I know _Cormier._ And you can't tell me there's not a part of you that isn't the least bit intrigued."

Cormier gave a traitorous lurch in Shaw's gut from and Shaw cursed inwardly. "You're right," she said, jaw clenching. "You don't know me."

Root smirked, undeterred. "And Lexa..."

"I'm not Lexa," Shaw snapped, her hands shooting out to tightly grab Root's arms above her elbows, stopping her from getting closer. "And you're not Clarke. And I don't care what our symbionts shared in the past. You're not leaving here with that symbiont."

"If that were true, you would have left me with those Private Service goons earlier. But you didn't."

Shaw tightened her grip, fingers digging into Root's flesh, and Root's lips parted with a gasp. Not of pain. But of _pleasure_ and Shaw hated the responding desire that shot through her body and settled, wet and heavy, between her thighs.

"We're connected, Shaw." Root dipped her head forward, so close that Shaw could practically taste the words in her mouth. "I know you feel it."

"I don't feel," Shaw lied, unable to stop her eyes from drifting down to watch Root's tongue wet her lips.

"Then get it over with," Root said, thechallenge dripping from her voice. "Turn me in."

Shaw glared, hoping her face didn't betray the turmoil churning inside her, with Cormier's desires at war with her own weakening resolve. She knew what she had to do. Knew what she _should_ do.

But her two hearts betrayed her and Shaw whispered out a harsh, "fuck," before she crushed her body to Root's and brought their lips together in a bruising kiss. Their mouths clashed in a duel of lips and tongues and teeth. Shaw pushed Root back until she was shoved up against a wall. She slid her hands down and gripped Root's ass. Moaning, Root wasted no time in wrapping her legs tightly around Shaw's waist and biting down on Shaw's bottom lip. Blood buzzing with want, Shaw groaned and rocked her hips hard against Root, who cried out from the friction.

"If we do this," Shaw whispered harshly against Root's mouth. "I won't be gentle."

Root tangled her fingers in Shaw's hair and tugged. Hard. "Neither will I."

* * *

Hours later, Shaw awoke gradually and groaned, her entire body deliciously sore and tender. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so sated. That is, until memories of the previous night's carnal activities trickled back into her consciousness and she jolted up from the mattress. Or tried to. She couldn't move. She twisted her head up and found her right wrist ziptied to the bedpost.

"Shit."

Her eyes darted to the empty spot next to her and around the bedroom. She was alone. Root was gone, no doubt with the stasis unit. Shaw didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved or pissed. Or all three. She did, however, know she was in for a massive headache when Finch found out.

"Fuck," she said, letting her head fall back onto the pillow and something crinkled against her cheek.

Frowning, Shaw reached up with her free hand and grasped a small piece of paper. On it was a short message, in impeccable handwriting:

 _Until next time, sweetie._

And despite the foreign emotions swirling within, try as she might, Shaw couldn't stop herself from smiling. Even just a little.


End file.
